Relentless
'''Relentless' is a short story chronicling the early career of Toa Nolbrunn. Story The Twin Suns hung in the evening sky, balanced against a perpetually infinite backdrop of rich, vibrant hues. Shades of crimson and deep orange permeated what few wisps of cloud lingered. Two skies molded into one blazing spectacle. In the valley below, the settlement remained busy as ever, though the ebb and flow of life was slowly grinding to a halt. Farmers were herding their cattle back into the village, just specks of color jostling against the earthy emerald grass. The gentle hum of conversation could be heard even from a distance. The mellow warmth of the late afternoon was tangible in the air. A gentle breeze was beginning to pick up, wafting the sensual fragrance of budding flowers newly-bloomed. The stench of civilization did not assault the nostrils of anybody in this region. From atop a nearby hillside, a Toa of Stone sat amidst clumps and shoots of wildgrass, observing his village with keen, inquisitive eyes. The path he had climbed was one so solitary that berries remained on their storks till they dropped, hanging in heavy clusters around him. His perch had gone untouched for some years before he had discovered it, and was now damp and ran with emerald pasture. A single delicate touch would send up mists of pollen more dazzling than any flowers. It was a typical evening, here in the more rural plateaus of the Southern Island Chain, the atmosphere resting in such delicate equilibrium. The scene of his village was so vivacious that inanimate objects seemed to be endowed with two or three senses, if not all five. Gazing affectionately upon his village, the Toa felt there to be no distinction between near and far, for he felt close to everything on the horizon. Lingering a while further, the Toa felt the Twin Suns sink lower in the sky, their charitable impression of affection gradually dulling. He was no doubt expected to return to the settlement soon, and he would. He would find his way back, but he had no intention of leaving until the two blazing, celestial orbs had completed their journey across the heavens of his homeland. Together they danced in the outer atmosphere, converging under an irresistible law, as surely as two streams in one vale, balanced on the edge of passion. With the rest of his Toa unit out patrolling the northern regions of the valley, the young Toa of Stone had been left to his own devices. Figuring he had the whole rest of his life to hone his training and confident that he could defect to his teammates, he had ventured out into the wilderness for an afternoon doze and awoken to the swirling euphoria of a particularly vivid sunset. There were always tasks to be done around the village, he supposed. Rahi had to be tamed, huts had to be repaired, and sinkholes needed to be filled, but he didn’t want the villagers to grow over reliant upon his efforts, lest they become too trusting of his charity. After all, he didn’t intend to guard his homeland forever. This settlement boasted three Toa while other islands struggled to fend off the League of Six Kingdoms with the same number. At some point he would venture out into the wider world and leave this valley behind, perhaps train others himself one day. More than once, he had caught envious glances from the local Turaga, admiring his physique with both a melancholy gratefulness and bitter remorse. He was surprised to find the old fool shaping such sad imaginings. But he had resolved to dismiss them. It was his moment in the limelight anyway. Indeed, he fancied himself a competent and experienced individual. Even in his Matoran days he had been one of the few villagers to earn a copper Mask of Victory on virtue of his rock-climbing and just that morning he had altered the course of a river threatening to erode its way to the village by reinforcing its banks. It felt as though he could heft the entire world upon his mighty shoulders. Of course, overconfidence was so often the downfall of his predecessors and he tried to exercise restraint. But this was merely the beginning of his journey, originating in a world of endless sunlight and abundance. Gazing back at the village square, the young Toa wondered what great destiny he was meant for, secure in the belief that knowledge would could to him in time. He needed only to live the good life until then, sailing along as master of his own destiny. “Erm... Toa Nolbrunn?” The Toa of Stone tensed at the sound of his name being uttered, suddenly aware of his immediate surroundings and that there was a presence behind him. While only momentary, the approach had startled him. Clearing his throat and recomposing himself, he turned his head to address the speaker. Standing amidst the uncultivated shrubbery, with dirt coating his bleached white and orange armor, was the figure of a Su-Matoran. Gazing deep into the eyeholes of the stranger’s Matatu, Nolbrunn remarked his perturbed countenance. “Can I help you?” “As a matter of fact, you can,” grumbled the Su-Matoran, his brow knotting as he gazed upon the village in frustration. Then he paused, as if working up the confidence to utter the grievance that had brought him up the hillside aloud. “I have been wronged and I desire justice. Figured I’d come to a Toa for counsel.” “What troubles you, traveler?” asked Nolbrunn, glancing at the valley. “It’s something of a long story,” admitted the Su-Matoran, unconsciously articulating with hands. “You see, I’m a courier operating between villages. Every day I load up my cart and transport supplies across this region with my Ussal – tools, sandbags, metal, but more often than not building materials. I work hard to represent the principals of my tribe and travel for the more or less gallant benefit of others. I do the same route every day, going the long way around the valley to avoid the river.” Nolbrunn nodded, picturing the Su-Matoran with the Ussal in question. “But, you see, after the rain storms that hit us last month, my cart got wetter than usual and I couldn’t dry it properly. In the end it got damp behind the wheel arches and beneath the chassis where I couldn’t reach, so the axle became wonky and misshapen and it stopped running so smoothly. In the end, it broke down and I had to take it to the nearest village to be serviced.” The Matoran of Plasma paused for breath while the Toa continued to stare blankly at him. “But when I got there, the Ba-Matoran rogue charged me 60 widgets, almost triple the cost of my usual repair shop, for damages to the Tug Stop and underbelly of the shaft!” “Just sounds like a guy trying to make a living. Not much else to do in the villages beyond the valley.” The Su-Matoran shook his head. “But you forget, Toa, this cart is my livelihood. I’ve had it for nearly 5,000 years and I know it like the inside of my Kanohi. Worse still, the replacement axle is already on its last legs of life and is liable to snap in two at any moment. I was swindled of my widgets for minimal repairs and lost a further week’s work because of it.” “Did you take this up with the Turaga?” The Su-Matoran grumbled incoherently and spat in the dirt. “Apparently they’re old friends. I won’t get any reparations out of him unless I take action into my own hands.” Nolbrunn’s audio receptors perked. “So what would do you want, stranger?” The Matoran glanced sheepishly at the village square one final time then turned to meet the Toa’s gaze, now firm in his conviction. “I want retribution. If I can’t get my widgets back then he sure shouldn’t get to keep them. Maybe he should end up having to finance repairs of his own… repairs to his livelihood, perhaps.” Uneasily, Nolbrunn considered the words. “It wouldn’t take much, Toa – just a localized earthquake to damage his property.” The Toa of Stone hesitated a moment longer. “Earthquakes aren’t really my thing.” “Consider it an opportunity to take creative license. Sprout a stone column or collapse a cavern deep under the soil. Get creative, just so long as that thieving Piraka has to pay for it. I’ll not have my widgets sitting idly in his coffers, and I’m willing to bet I’m not the first he’s cheated.” Nolbrunn turned to admire the setting Twin Suns one final time. He knew it to be a foolish endeavor. The Matoran was deluded by thoughts of retaliation and to entertain him further would serve only to fulfil a vendetta he wanted no part in. Although, that being said, it sounded as though there had been some degree of injustice dealt to the courier and others like him. It was hard to take pity on a figure so deluded by unsavory thoughts of such harsh retaliation, but it didn’t mean he was less deserving of justice than any other wronged courier who had entered the Ba-Matoran’s repair shop. The offer was tempting, and he had himself been duped with faulty climbing equipment purchased from more than one coastal village in his Matoran days. It was the type of ethical crossroads that decided what manner of Toa he would become, and one that he couldn’t turn to the Turaga for guidance. So what was it to be? Cracking a smile and sporting a giddy twinkle in his eye, the Toa of Stone decided that lessons in restraint and humility could wait. “Let’s do it...” Characters *Toa Nolbrunn *Unnamed Su-Matoran courier *Unnamed Turaga - Mentioned *Two Toa in Nolbrunn's Toa Unit - Mentioned *Unnamed Ba-Matoran repairman - Mentioned Trivia *The story is part of a four-person collaboration project between BobTheDoctor27, BionicleChicken, Rogaine, and Chicken Bond, with each contributor endeavoring to produce a different installment in a progressive, seasonal-themed narrative arc. As such, Relentless represents the Spring portion of this larger collaboration. *In its earliest drafts, the story was intended to center around a young Zatth-wearing Toa of Earth named Baalor.